


Another Lifetime

by romabeachgirl



Category: Gone With the Wind - All Media Types, Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25982458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romabeachgirl/pseuds/romabeachgirl
Summary: On the morning of her forty-fifth birthday, Scarlett finally gets some closure. One-shot.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	Another Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Without Margaret Mitchell, this work would not exist. I do not own any part of Gone With The Wind, and no money is being made from this story.

Rhett Butler, despite his words, did not return to keep down the gossip, and Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler was not able to get any man she wanted.

That truth, though, no longer had the power to bother her. Scarlett had long since moved on.

How had her life come to this? Not even Scarlett's sixteen-year-old self could have imagined the nightmare she found herself in at the age of twenty-eight. Three failed marriages, two deceased husbands, two dead children, and then she belatedly discovered her love for a man hell-bent on walking away.

For a time, when Rhett first left, Scarlett thought his abandonment was the worst pain she had ever experienced. The agony of his departure was worse than the agonies of childbirth, greater than the sorrow of losing both parents and more traumatic than her wartime experiences.

But then it wasn't. Not really. Not even close.

In the aftermath of his exit, she had packed away her reminiscences of that life like one might pack away painful mementos or unwanted furniture. She had sealed her recollections of Rhett Butler in the weeks and months and years after his departure. The love that she had felt for the man had been buried deep within the recesses of her heart, and in those weak moments of rare introspection years later, Scarlett realized that those memories had no power to hurt her. Because Rhett had left with a finality that had stunned her at first, but ultimately played a decisive role in her moving forward with her life.

Nothing had been left behind that would remind her of Rhett; nothing linking him to their failed union in Atlanta. Not even the little gifts she had given him during their courtship and marriage were left behind. Not a book or shirt or handkerchief was left in the room that he had long occupied. Only a faint scent, that by the time Scarlett found the strength to enter the room once more, was no more. It was in the silent emptiness of his former room in his former home that Scarlett realized that her husband was never coming back. There would be no returning to keep the rumors at bay. Rhett Butler would likely never set foot in Atlanta again.

And that in itself was a blessing. There was no temptation on Scarlett's part or hope in her heart that she would win Rhett's affections once again.

At first, it was difficult not to want to wallow in her uncertainty, but Scarlett had not done so. She had believed, for a short time, that Rhett would return, and some semblance of peace would be restored to her life. Even now, the idea of divorce still bothered her, but it did not terrify her as it once had. Perhaps because it had never happened. And the fact that it never did is what kept her unknowingly on edge.

It had been a relatively simple thing for Scarlett not to dwell on her memories. Her entire life had been built on the notion of looking at what might happen, at what might be. Tomorrow was important; never yesterday's words or actions or thoughts that were immutable. For much of Scarlett's life, that notion had allowed her to survive the many obstacles fate had thrown her way.

In a way, Rhett's leaving had also been a gift. Scarlett had survived, even prospered, without him. There was no need or space for tears, recriminations, or drama in her life. There were no jeers or hurtful words or accusations left to utter. She was safe and in control, and she was happy. She did not miss Rhett's suffocating arrogance, his precise cruelty, or his stinging rebukes.

No one in Atlanta or Clayton County could accuse her of living in the past, holding on to the memory of an estranged husband. Scarlett moved on and rarely found the time to look back. It was no concern of hers as to how people viewed her, even now. A new generation of Atlanta society occasionally brought up her name or infamous exploits. Still, it would shock those remaining peahens to know that Scarlett did not give them or her reputation or Rhett Butler a passing thought.

That is until that blissfully sunny late-spring morning. This morning. Today, of all days.

A sudden, vibrant image of Rhett flashed through Scarlett's mind as she picked up a letter addressed to her in unfamiliar calligraphy from Charleston.

 _Charleston_.

The word meant nothing to her. Scarlett had read it or ignored it dozens of times in the intervening years when writing to her aunts or when it was mentioned in innocent chatter.

 _Charleston_.

Scarlett could not recall the last time she had thought of Rhett, but seeing the address brought back memories of a tall, powerfully built, attractive man in his prime standing in the hallway intently studying her as one might a magnificent painting or celebrated sculpture. The images of Rhett grinning at her, a measly few feet away from her first and second husband, or his contempt at the talk of war amongst the man gathered at the Twelve Oaks barbeque, assailed her.

A soft wind blew the hair back from Scarlett's face, enticing her with a faint aroma of roasting pork. The breeze carried the chatter of friends and family, gone so many years, to her ears.

How could she forget that first smoldering glance at the bazaar or Rhett's appearance at Aunt Pittypat's door with her drunk father, singing loudly off-key? She was picking flowers in a field, wrapping them in Rhett's handkerchief as the sun warmed her shoulders. The feel of his arms around her as she cried in desperation for her mother on the night they fled Atlanta was almost palpable. The smell of his cigar and it's dim glow in the dark confines of her bedroom. The hopeful look in his black eyes when Rhett first glimpsed a newborn Bonnie.

These images played in her mind as Scarlett clutched the envelope and walked purposefully from the house. She encountered no one, but anyone who saw her would have known by the way she carried herself to leave her in peace.

Scarlett sighed loudly. She would not allow other, darker pictures to cloud her thoughts.

She already knew what the letter would say, and it came as no shock to her when she finally opened it with trembling, hesitant fingers. There was no utterance of a laugh or sob or gleeful delight. What Scarlett felt instead was the lifting of a weight that she hardly knew she still carried. Her heart felt lighter. Her thoughts were more precise, and her body felt relaxed in a way that had been absent since that long-ago day on the porch at Tara.

In a matter of minutes, decades of life's stresses fell away from her.

Scarlett shook her head, tossing back her windswept hair.

"Miss Scarlett, everythin' 'right?"

Prissy's presence was expected and welcomed. There was no point in hiding anything from her.

"I never thought I would say this out loud, Prissy, but after all this time, I can finally utter these words."

Clutching the note in her hand, Scarlett glanced at it in a manner Prissy couldn't immediately understand or later describe. Scarlett looked up at Prissy momentarily and recalled when the squirming twelve-year-old had first come to live at Tara. Who would have thought that Prissy would still be in her life, and had grown into a presence much like her own Mammy? Sometime after that beautiful April day when Scarlett's entire world was transformed, Prissy had become her most trusted confidante.

"Relief. Yes, relief."

Prissy glanced skeptically at her. "Miss Scarlett?"

"I should be ashamed of it, but all I feel is a wave of relief. I know that I should be sad or perhaps even angry, but I'm not." Scarlett's words tumbled out. "His death means that I can live. Rhett's death means that I can stop looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to appear. I can be confident that in this life, there is nothing more that we can do to each other. We tore each other apart for years with our pride and stubbornness and cruelty." Scarlett let out a laugh. "I'm free, Prissy. I'm free for the first time in a very long time, maybe the first time in my entire life. I can breathe, and I can mourn him properly if and when I'm ready to."

Wordlessly, Prissy sat down beside her on the weathered stone bench.

"I made only one attempt to find Rhett," Scarlett glanced at Prissy before turning away. She studied her hands, struck by the sight of how they had aged. They were not the smooth, soft hands of a sixteen-year-old belle or the calloused hands of a woman struggling to save her home. "It was a few years after he left, and I had heard nothing from him. No letters. Nothing. Not even divorce papers. I mentioned his name in passing to one of my aunts in Charleston, but nothing much ever came of it. At first, I thought Aunt Pauline was ignoring me, but in a letter months later, she hinted that even Rhett's mother had had no news of him in years. Rhett had visited with his mother for a few hours on the day of his arrival in Charleston, and then under the guise of business, he left his mother's house never to return. A letter arrived a few months later and nothing more. The poor woman, I later found out, never spoke to, or saw her son again before her death. Can you imagine, Prissy? Not a word."

Prissy did not answer her. What could be said in response?

"The Butler family was never mentioned in another of my aunts' letters. And I left it at that. By that time, I had reconciled with the reality that Rhett was no longer a part of my life. Aunt Pauline died, and then Aunt Eulalie and any connections I may have had with Rhett's family disappeared. Until today. I never met Rhett's younger sister Rosemary, and it's doubtful and unnecessary for us to meet now."

"Why's that, Miss Scarlett?"

Scarlett pushed the open letter towards Prissy, who had learned to read and write but who still lacked confidence in her ability, even after all this time.

_**Scarlett,** _

_**I am writing to inform you of the sudden passing of my brother Rhett. Word was sent through his lawyer to the Butler family firm; however, very few details are known. I'm not sure that the details even matter. Rhett had only one request, and that was to be buried beside his daughter. The arrangements, I have been told, have already been made and require nothing on your part. Rhett insisted only that you be informed. His body will arrive at Tara shortly. You are not even required to attend his burial if that is your choice. His estate, his lawyer stipulated, is to be evenly distributed between his only two surviving heirs: Wade and Ella. I thought you should know and I wanted to honor my brother's last wishes.** _

_**Rosemary Lynch (nee Butler)** _

Turning the letter over, Scarlett watched Prissy scour the paper for answers that would never materialize.

How had Rhett known about Bonnie? The movement of her daughter's body to Tara, to rest beside her grandparents, had taken place shortly after Scarlett's permanent move back to Clayton County.

Never having any intention of ever living in the country again, necessity had made it so for her, Wade and Ella.

Scarlett had not been prepared for the shock and grief that arrived in the form of a telegram late one stormy night. The tragic accident that left both Suellen and Will dead, two short years after Rhett's departure, had upended not only Scarlett's life but that of Wade and Ella and the orphaned Benteen girls.

It had never crossed her mind to bring her sister's children to live in Atlanta. The senseless accident was a sign, an omen, for Scarlett to return home. More than that, it was a call to do right by her family.

She had fought with her younger sister and stolen Suellen's beaux out from under her nose for no other reason than because she could. Marrying Frank Kennedy without real thought about how Suellen would feel hardly crossed Scarlett's mind. Forcing Suellen to see her heavily pregnant with Frank's child, had likely been a step too far. There had never been a word of apology or remorse. Scarlett had continued to act, on her rare visits back to Tara, as if nothing had transpired. Now she would never get the opportunity to voice her regret because, with time, Scarlett had finally come to understand her devious role.

It was with sadness that Scarlett realized upon moving to Tara that she would never, in this lifetime, be able to apologize to Suellen. Instead, Scarlett would do the only thing she could do: ensure that the Benteen children were safe and fed and protected and loved.

The trio of Benteen girls were, after all, her sister's children; her blood; her family.

Scarlett had instantly stepped in to care for her sister's children. Raising Suellen and Will's three daughters plus Wade and Ella had kept her busy.

Upon first arriving at her childhood home, Scarlett felt the thick veneer around her heart crack at the sight of her nieces and their tear-stained faces, as Mammy stood morosely behind them. There was an extended moment of doubt. There was no way she could care for five children on her own when she hadn't even wanted her own children.

But day by busy day, with the help of Mammy and Prissy and eventually Pork and Dilcey, that is precisely what Scarlett did. She forced herself to be at the breakfast table each morning with a warm smile as the children made their way down from the nursery, where they only slept and occasionally played. There was no need for such formality in the house that Gerald O'Hara had built. On many days, Scarlett sat at her mother's old desk, trying to keep Tara afloat at the same time as she managed the books from her neglected but still well-run store. She oversaw the children's schooling and the household's upkeep. Most nights, Scarlett fell into bed bone-weary, and often, she was asleep before her head touched her soft pillow.

So many things had not come naturally to her in the beginning, and Scarlett momentarily wondered if Rhett had been right about her mothering skills. But slowly, Scarlett came to realize how wrong Rhett had been and how truly blessed she was. The laughter and conversations of the children, which could sound like incessant chirping to some people, rejuvenated not only Tara but Scarlett. Her days were filled with love and noise and, ultimately, pride at a job well done.

Gone were the memories of those dark days in Atlanta. Now her mind was filled with new recollections: the way all the children, at one point or another, had snuggled close to her after begging her to read them another bedtime story, watching the children play on the beach during their yearly visits to Savannah, wiping away tears that spilled down innocent faces, caring for them when they were sick and fussy, something as simple as the chatter of the children playing with their dolls as the entire family sat in what had once been Ellen's study.

Her days were filled with the needs of the children. It was with honesty that Scarlett told herself that there would likely never be time or space or desire for anyone else. It wasn't that she had pined away for Rhett. That was the furthest thing from the truth. Her home was filled with love and life, and for a brief moment, the chaos had reminded her of Beatrice Tarleton's busy family. Her days were hectic, and despite it all, she felt a sense of fulfillment. Life had not exactly broken her, but age had matured her.

There was also no space for the remains of a spoiled former belle. Scarlett had finally become a mother and confidante to her children. She lived and breathed for them, and while some might argue that one's children, without the deeper gratifying devotion of a lover, was not enough, Scarlett relished her life. It had been painful and challenging to get to this place, but the entire family, including Scarlett, had flourished and overcome.

Scarlett had seen to their education, ensured that all of the girls, Ella included, came out in Atlanta society. Her sister's two oldest girls, Susie and Mary, were married and living nearby in Macon and Atlanta. The baby, Molly, who had few recollections of her parents, was now engaged to an upstanding young man from a dignified Virginia family.

The children were Scarlett's greatest joys in life, and she was certain that both Will and Suellen would be happy at how their daughters had turned out. She did not care about how Rhett would have viewed her.

There had simply been no time to think about Rhett Butler or feel sorry for the state of her life. Tara and her children somehow had the power to heal her.

From bursting at the seams to almost empty, Scarlett could practically hear the house breathe with relief as she and Prissy sat silently in front of the graves of her parents, her daughter, and Suellen and Will. Mammy was close by as well.

After so many years of endlessly busy days, Scarlett was still learning how to fill the empty hours now. None of the children required her undivided attention any longer, but Scarlett did not feel obsolete. She felt the exact opposite. She had done what few had expected of her. Anyone who had been at Twelve Oaks that day would be forced to admit it.

Scarlett knew she had done a good job, the best she could do under the circumstances. At the age of forty-five, though, she was tired but happy, and now, with this note, she was relieved. She could live the rest of her life, comfortable with the knowledge that Rhett was never coming back. Scarlett had ceased being angry at him years before. Rosemary's letter had alluded to but never said outright, that Rhett had probably died alone. There could be no wife because, under the law, she was still Mrs. Rhett Butler. That fact was in name only, but oddly, even that link did not bother her anymore. Neither did it irk her that Rhett's money had been left to her children. Maybe the children would accept his money, or they might reject it just as Rhett had refused them so long ago. She didn't want anything to do with Rhett's ill-gotten gains. The stipulation that he be buried at Tara beside Bonnie, and eventually his estranged wife, did not affect her in any way. It was a curious thing.

Scarlett had no idea where Rhett had gone after he left her or how he lived his last years but she only hoped that they had been well-lived, that he had found a modicum of, if not happiness, then at least peace. That was all she wanted for him. Rosemary's letter provided no evidence either way, and Scarlett quietly acknowledged that she would likely never know the answer to her question. And it didn't matter.

Rhett had made his choice. He had left his marriage and family for places unknown and had likely spent his days alone. But what had the end been like, Scarlett wondered? Was there anyone by his side? Had anyone held his hand or spoken to him as he slipped from this world? Maybe it was for the best that Rosemary had not included any details. The truth was probably heartbreaking. The contents of the letter were sad, actually, but Scarlett forced those ideas away.

No. Rhett had made his choice, and Scarlett pushed the thoughts away for the last time. She had long ago cried her precious last tears for Rhett Butler, and with the remaining years left in front of her with her children and more grandbabies, beyond Wade and Ella's brood, Scarlett was at peace. There would be no tears or regrets later. That time had passed. Life was all about choices. Rhett had made his and had lived and died with them. Scarlett had made hers and was grateful for how life had turned out. It wasn't a storybook ending but it was life.

Scarlett rose to her feet, smoothing imaginary creases in the front of her dress, more out of habit than anything else, and found Prissy closely watching her.

"Everyone inside, waitin' for you, Miss Scarlett. There no way Miss Ella will let the children near your cake 'til you return."

"Forty-five, Prissy," Scarlett sighed. "Forty-five."

"Happy birthday, Miss Scarlett! What you wishin' for?"

"Nothing, Prissy. Nothing at all. I have everything I could ever hope for."

Linking her arm companionably with Prissy's, Scarlett once more wondered how the inept child had grown into the beloved friend standing next to her.

"I'm glad for you, Miss Scarlett."

Rhett Butler was gone, and she was still alive. Scarlett O'Hara was a survivor, and this sad news would not bend her or break her. And that was the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> There are readers out there that swear that Scarlett and Rhett never see each other again after the night of Melanie's death. The rumors died away, and Rhett never returned. That has never been my opinion. It's not that I root for Scarlett more than Rhett, it's just that I am a hopeless romantic when it comes to these two!
> 
> For some reason, the idea for this one-shot has been swirling through my mind for weeks and weeks as I try to write (thankfully) another vastly more satisfying and lighthearted tale. It's probably best to get this out of my system so I can make some headway on a story I'm excited to write and share with you. 
> 
> I'm not sure if this occurs with other writers, but as I am working out a storyline before I even type a single word, scenes play in my mind before I drift off to sleep at night. I work out different scenarios and imagine possible dialogue between characters. Night after night, as I tried to think through a new story idea, this scenario doggedly kept me company. I'm done fighting it. I decided to write this and publish this tonight in the hope that my muse will finally be satisfied. 
> 
> This IS a one-shot. This is NOT an alternate ending to A Deathless Love, and it will NEVER be the basis of any story or the epilogue of any other stories I may write in the future, but I needed to get these thoughts out. 
> 
> I fully acknowledge that this will not be to everyone's liking. I'm not sure how I feel about it. There are brief moments when I can imagine this outcome, then I shake those gloomy thoughts away and imagine a happier ending for Scarlett and Rhett.
> 
> Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. Stay safe and take care.


End file.
